


Show Me the Way Home

by jstabe



Series: MFD [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Amputee Bucky Barnes, Car Accidents, M/M, Minor Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Past Child Abuse, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 14:55:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20566220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jstabe/pseuds/jstabe
Summary: Clint and Bucky are being stupid. Lucky's had enough.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is for the MFD prompt Lucky and the farmhouse. Thank you to ely_jan for the beta and hand holding.
> 
> This is more serious than a fun day prompt probably should be. I've tried to tag appropriately, but if I've missed anything, please let me know! I'm trying to be considerate of people without spoiling things. If you feel you need more information before reading, I'm always available.

It’s just after two in the morning when Steve’s cell goes off, and he’s reaching for it before he’s even fully awake. Too many years as a solider have trained that into him, but it’s the memory of the phone call after Bucky and Clint’s accident that has his heart pounding. The fear doesn’t dissipate when he sees Bucky’s name on the caller ID. 

“Bucky? Everything okay?” 

“Stevie?” 

Bucky’s voice is hoarse with unshed tears and Steve is already rolling out of bed to find his clothes. Tony makes a noise of protest next to him but comes awake as well when Steve flips on the bedroom light and Tony gets a look at his face. 

“Buck? What’s wrong?” 

“He’s gone, Stevie. I’ve looked everywhere. I can’t... I can’t find him.” 

Steve pauses in the act of pulling on pants. It’s been three years, but a rainy night like this can put Bucky right back in the mangled car with Clint. Steve gentles his voice without even having to think about it. 

“It’s the storm, Bucky. You’re just remembering the accident. Everything is fine.” 

“No! It’s not Clint. I can’t find Lucky. He got out somehow and I can’t... I can’t lose him, Steve.” 

Steve’s heart breaks at the pain in Bucky’s voice. Bucky has been through so much and that dog is his life. He finishes pulling on his pants, starts searching for a shirt. 

“Okay, pal. Just hang on. Tony and I will be right there.” 

“Yeah, okay.” There’s a long, shuddering breath. “Thanks, Stevie.” 

Steve hangs up and shoves the phone into his pants pocket, smiles softly when he sees that Tony is already out of bed and getting dressed as well. Tony is a good boyfriend, even if Steve hadn’t been sure of that in the beginning. 

“What’s going on with the one-armed man?” 

Fine, sometimes Steve still worries about it. “Stop calling him that. You know he’s still traumatized. Besides, he has two arms now thanks to you.” 

“I’d never call him that while he’s not fully recovered,” Tony grumbles. “I’m not a monster.” He walks toward Steve, grinning as he kisses his cheek. “And yes, he does. I am a giver.” 

Steve rolls his eyes, but they finish getting dressed without any more commentary and head out to the car. Steve refuses to let Tony make Happy get out of bed so he’s the one that drives them to Bed-Stuy. Tony sits in the passenger seat, eyes closed as he’s still mostly asleep. 

“You never did answer me. What’s wrong with Bucky?” 

“Lucky is missing. I really hope he’s just wandered off and we can find him quickly. Bucky will be devastated if he loses that dog.” 

“What’s the story there anyway? I didn’t really come along until all of that mess was over.” 

Steve bristles, but he knows Tony doesn’t mean that in a flippant way. Steve hadn’t met Tony until the engineering genius’ company had decided to delve into prosthetics. Bucky had ended up on a list of candidates and had finally allowed Steve to talk him into the program. Clint and Bucky had been separated by then, and as far as Steve knows, Clint hasn’t come back to Bed-Stuy in the year and a half since the separation began. 

“People always talk about perfect couples, and up until the accident, they really were. Bucky changed a lot after that. He was angry all the time, and his temper got out of control. He couldn’t have been easy to live with. He just closed off. Wouldn’t let anyone help him at all. It got bad enough that Clint mentioned a trial separation. Bucky doesn’t talk about it, but shortly after that, Clint left. Went out to this farmhouse he and Bucky had bought in the Hudson Valley. Left everything behind. Including Lucky.” 

“Hmm.” Tony’s quiet in that way that Steve knows means he’s processing. “Bucky is very attached to that dog.” 

“Yeah. Someone dumped him on the farm. You’ve seen the missing eye? He was definitely abused, malnourished. Bucky and Clint saved him. They love that damn mutt.” 

“And Clint just left him behind?” 

Steve shrugs; he’s never understood that either, but Bucky doesn’t talk about Clint leaving. There’s a hell of a lot Bucky doesn’t talk about. It’s better than it was, right after the accident, but there’s still a definite wall between Bucky and emotions. 

They pull up in front of the apartment building where Clint and Bucky had lived, where Bucky still lives. Steve keeps urging him to move, to find a fresh start, but Bucky isn’t ready yet. There’s no moving Bucky until he’s damn good and ready. 

Steve bypasses the elevator (now that Clint isn’t doing maintenance for the building, the thing is out of order more often than not) and takes the four flights of stairs to Bucky’s floor. Bucky’s pacing the hall in front of his open door, and his eyes are wild when they meet Steve’s. Steve opens his arms, and Bucky practically runs to him, lets Steve envelope him in a hug. Steve smiles, holds on tight; Bucky hadn’t liked being touched for a long time after the accident, and Steve is so grateful to have this back. 

“We’ll find him, Buck. Now tell me what happened.” 

Bucky pulls back, eyes red-rimmed with dark circles under them. He’s been doing so much better lately but sleep is still hard to come by. Steve keeps a soothing hand low on his back. 

“I knew it was going to storm, and normally I shut everything up tight. Turn on a fan or the TV so I don’t have to hear it rain. But Lucky likes the fresh air and I must have missed the window in the guest room.” He lifts his head to look at Steve more directly, eyes full of guilt. “I don’t know why he’d go out like that. He’s never tried before.” 

“He’s a smart dog, Bucky. If we don’t find him, he’ll make his way back here.” 

“But what if someone hits him or something? It’s dark, and it’s not raining anymore, but it’s wet out and...” 

Bucky’s breathing hitches and Steve turns to him, gets a hand on his chest. “Hey, come on. I need you to breathe with me, Bucky. Okay? Let’s breathe together for a minute.” 

He gets Bucky calmed down and the three of them head out to look for Lucky. Tony goes off by himself, after getting a grateful smile from Steve. This isn’t a good time for Bucky to be alone, and while he gets along with Tony, they do tend to snipe at one another. 

Dawn is pinking the sky when they trudge back to Bucky’s apartment. Steve sends a text to Tony to meet them there as Bucky lets them into the quiet apartment. There’d been no sign of Lucky anywhere, and he wasn’t waiting outside the apartment building when they got back. Steve can feel the anxiety coming off of Bucky in waves. 

Inside, Bucky toes off his wet shoes and drops his coat by the door. His shoulders are slumped, hands shaking when he doesn’t have them in his pockets. Steve goes to him, puts a hand on his arm. Bucky turns with a soft sob and wraps himself around Steve. Steve holds on tight, surprised by the emotion. Bucky has always been one to hold things in. 

“I’m sorry, Bucky. I know you’re worried, but I’m not giving up. There’s a lot we can do to find him.” 

“He’s all I’ve got left.” 

“Buck...” 

Bucky shakes his head against Steve’s chest. “When Clint said he was leaving me, I didn’t really believe him at first. I mean, yeah, things were bad. Real bad. But I was so far up my own ass that I didn’t see how badly he was hurting. I guess I thought we’d just keep going along. I mean, he mentioned separation, but then nothing for months. Not until...” 

Bucky looks up and Steve is taken aback by the shame he sees in Bucky’s eyes. “You don’t have to tell me anything. Whatever happened is between you and Clint. But I’ll listen if you need me to.” 

Bucky nods, ducks his head. “It was a bad night, worse than this one. Bigger storm. I didn’t have the arm.” Bucky hadn’t joined the prosthetics program until after he and Clint had split up. “Got caught up at therapy and was late getting home. Had to walk. You remember how I was.” 

Steve nods. After the accident, Bucky couldn’t drive because of the arm, but he also couldn’t handle being in a car even as a passenger. Public transportation of any kind gave him panic attacks and he spent months walking everywhere. 

“Yeah. I guess I was in more pain than usual, and on edge, thanks to the weather. When I finally got home, Clint was worried. I just got pissed off.” 

That was typical of Bucky then too. Everything made him angry, especially if he believed someone was coddling him. 

“We fought. Well, I did. Clint doesn’t yell, he just gets real quiet. I...” Bucky rubs the back of his neck. “I don’t like spilling Clint’s stuff, but you won’t get it otherwise. It’s... his dad was an abusive drunk. I think that tells you enough.” 

“It does,” Steve agrees. He loves Clint like a brother; if Clint ever wants to share, he’ll listen. Same as he would for Bucky. 

“Thanks. Anyway, here we are in this yelling fight, but I’m the only one yelling. Clint’s just getting quieter and quieter and it just made me angrier.” Bucky looks down, shoulders slumped. “I hate telling you this. Hate that you’re seeing me be so ugly.” 

“I love you, Buck. No matter what you tell me.” 

Bucky nods, but he doesn’t look up. “I just wanted a reaction. I wanted him to be as angry as me, even if it made no sense. There was a water glass on the table and I... I picked it up and threw it at the wall. Nowhere near Clint, but that didn’t matter. Doesn’t matter. He went white as a sheet and left the room.” 

Steve manages not to flinch; he doesn’t want to upset Bucky more than he already is, but his heart goes out to Clint. They’d both been going through hell, and neither had known how to ask for help. 

“He left that night, didn’t even grab clothes. I think he stayed with Natasha. I went to PT the next morning, thinking we’d talk after but when I got home there were papers from a divorce lawyer on the island in the kitchen. He gave everything to me. Didn’t take anything but his clothes.” 

Bucky’s crying now and Steve pulls him in close, holds on tight. 

“He left Lucky because he said I needed him more. That Lucky was the only one I was letting close and he wouldn’t take that away from me. He loves that fucking dog, Steve, more than almost anything, but he left him behind because I needed him more.” 

Steve can believe it. It’s a very Clint thing to do. And it explains why Bucky is so distraught right now. 

“I can’t lose that dog, Steve. I just can’t.” 

They’re on the couch, Bucky plastered against Steve’s side when Tony comes in with coffee and donuts. He hands out breakfast and takes a seat in the recliner without a smart-ass comment. Steve gives him a grateful smile. They fuel up on caffeine and sugar and make plans.

➳ ✪ ➳

Three days later, there’s been no sign of Lucky and Bucky is a wreck. They’ve called animal hospitals, canvased the neighborhood, put up flyers. Nothing. The other residents of the building know and love Lucky, who was a frequent visitor on Clint’s maintenance visits. They’ve all kept eyes out too and no one has seen anything.

Tony is stuck at Stark Industries so it’s Bucky and Steve back on lost dog duty. They’re making another round of calls to the area animal hospitals because Steve honestly isn’t sure what else they can do. He just knows that he can’t give up. Steve finishes his call and crosses another name off his list. Bucky is still on hold, and Steve is pondering a coffee break when his phone rings. He glances down, surprised to see Clint’s name on the caller ID. 

“Hey, Clint. Been awhile.” 

Bucky’s head shoots up at the mention of Clint’s name. He frowns at Steve, who shrugs. 

“Look, man, I get this is awkward, but umm. Is Bucky okay?” 

Clint’s voice is tight and scared, and Steve is quick to answer. “He’s fine, Clint. I’m actually here with him.” 

“Oh, thank God. I thought... fuck.” 

“Are you okay?” 

Clint’s laugh is a little watery. “Yeah. But Lucky just showed up here.” 

“He what?!” 

Steve’s tone has Bucky hanging up his phone and turning to him, eyes filled with fear. 

“I woke up just now, was in the kitchen making coffee when there was a scratching at the door. He was sitting on the porch, wet and filthy, but he’s here. I got.... I really thought...” 

“I can see why you would. Bucky’s fine, but he’s been frantic. Lucky’s been gone for three days.” 

“Jesus. No wonder he’s a mess. There’s a bath in his immediate future.” 

Steve hears a bark in the background and shakes his head, incredulous. “Did you want to talk to Bucky?” 

There’s a pause before Clint answers. “Yeah. I should have called him, but I thought... and if he didn’t answer...” 

“It’s okay, Clint. You can call me anytime.” 

Bucky looks torn between relief and terror when Steve hands over his cell phone. Steve wonders if this is the first time since Clint left that the two have actually talked. Knowing the idiots as well as he does, he figures it is. He stands, reaches out to squeeze Bucky’s shoulder in support before he heads to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. He has a feeling they’re going to be on the road sooner rather than later.


	2. Chapter 2

Bucky is quiet the entire trip to the farmhouse in the Hudson Valley. On the one hand, he’s dying to see Lucky. That damn dog had nearly given him a heart attack. But seeing Lucky means seeing Clint, and Bucky hasn’t been ready to do that. Until today, he’s not seen or spoken to Clint since the night of their last fight. He’s wanted to, so many times, but fear has held him back. Now Lucky has decided this for him. There’s no way he’s not going to check on his dog. 

He makes Steve stop at the mailbox standing at the beginning of the long drive. He loves Steve, and the guy has been there for him through everything, but this reunion needs to be private. Steve agrees to hang out at the diner in town and await further instructions. It makes Bucky laugh, and he’s a little less tense as he walks down the drive toward the house. 

He hasn’t set foot on the property since the split and it’s clear Clint has been hard at work. The renovations they had started together have progressed just the way they’d envisioned, and it’s a punch to Bucky’s gut to see it. This was something they were supposed to do together... 

Bucky shakes off the melancholy. He has no one to blame but himself for this. As he gets closer to the house, he can hear barking coming from the backyard, so he heads that direction. He sees Clint sitting in the grass, a clean but wet Lucky settled between his legs. Clint is carefully drying his golden fur, and Lucky’s face is a mask of doggie adoration. Bucky’s heart skips several beats. God, he’s fucking missed Clint. 

“You’re lucky the vet makes house calls,” Clint is saying as he gently dries one floppy ear. “You’re doubly lucky she didn’t shove needles in your butt, fur face. Guess we named you right, huh?” 

Lucky woofs; Clint laughs and moves to drying his back. “You smell better now. I don’t even want to know what you rolled in before you got here. We’ll get you all dried off and brushed, bandage your paws before your daddy gets here.” 

Lucky whines mournfully, and Clint snorts. “Hey, this is on you. I left you there to take care of him and you just take off like that. No phone call, no text. You’re worse than a teenager.” 

Bucky has to smile; Clint has always held conversations with Lucky like the dog can understand every word. Hell, sometimes Bucky isn’t so sure he can’t. 

Clint’s set the towel aside and grabbed for the brush before he speaks again. “I’m mad at you right now, even if it’s great to see you. I fucking missed you like crazy.” Lucky licks Clint’s face, making Clint laugh. “Course I still love you. I didn’t leave you behind because I didn’t. I didn’t want Bucky to be alone. And I didn’t want to fight. Didn’t want to be like those stupid couples on Divorce Court, fighting over the soup spoons. I don’t think we even own soup spoons, Luck.” Lucky barks and Clint nods in agreement. “Exactly. It was all just stuff. The only thing I ever wanted to keep was him.” 

Jesus that hurts and Bucky can’t eavesdrop anymore. He takes a step back, not even sure what he intends to do, and Lucky’s head pops up. Bucky knows the little shit has known he was there; he’s not fooling anyone but Clint right now. Lucky gives an excited bark and is off like a shot, launching himself at Bucky. Bucky’s laughing when he catches an armful of dog, staggers back to get a good grip on the mutt. 

“Yeah, I missed you too.” 

Clint has gotten to his feet and brushed his hands off on his pants by the time Bucky has gotten himself stable enough not to fall over. He’s not meeting Bucky’s eyes, but there’s a soft smile on his lips, probably at Lucky’s antics. 

“How in the hell did he not knock you over? He knows bett... holy shit you have two arms.” 

The minute the words leave his mouth, Clint goes red. It takes a second before Bucky starts laughing and he gets going so hard, he has to put the dog down before he drops him. He holds out his left arm, metal hand gleaming in the sunshine. 

“Yeah, Stark Industries started a prosthetics program a few years back. Lucky me, I qualified when they were ready to start implementing it.” 

“That’s awesome, Buck.” 

There are dark circles under Clint’s eyes that match Bucky’s own, but his eyes are bright, and it settles something in Bucky. He unzips his hoodie, shrugs it off to reveal the white tank he’s wearing. He lifts his left arm, inviting Clint to look. 

“It’s amazing. I’m still getting used to it, but it wasn’t as hard as I thought it’d be.” 

Clint comes closer, reaches out like he wants to touch before he remembers himself. Bucky can’t be disappointed; there’s so much between them. There was no way this was going to be easy. He’s trying to think of something to say when Lucky worms his way in between them, angling his head under Bucky’s right hand for a scratch. Bucky obliges with a little scowl. 

“Not sure you deserve love, you ass. You scared the hell out of me.” 

“Me too,” Clint confesses quietly. “When I found him on the porch, I was sure something had happened to you.” 

“I’m sorry that he scared you.” 

Clint rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “Do you, uh, want to come in? I can make a late breakfast. Early lunch. Something.” 

“Yeah, I’d like that. Steve is waiting at the diner in town.” 

“Oh. I didn’t...” 

Bucky interrupts because he doesn’t want Clint to tell him it’s okay to take Lucky and go. “I’ve made a lot of progress, but I still don’t drive. I can be a passenger when it’s someone I trust so Stevie brought me. I, uh, was kind of hoping we could talk. Steve was going to go to the park to sketch after he ate so we have some time.” 

“Okay, good. I’d really like it if you came in then.” 

“The outside looks great,” Bucky says as he follows Clint inside through the back door. It leads to the spacious kitchen Bucky remembers well. It had been awful when he and Clint bought the place and was the first room Clint insisted they renovate. They’d slept on an air mattress with sleeping bags for months, but they’d had a great kitchen. 

“Thanks,” Clint is beaming, obviously pleased, before the smile dims a little. “I know we always planned to do the outside last because it’s basically just aesthetics. But then, well, with everything that happened, I figured it’d be easier to sell if the outside looked good. Even if the inside isn’t completely done.” 

“You’re selling?” Bucky couldn’t keep the dismay from his voice, and it had Clint looking back at him from where he was digging around in the fridge. 

“Well, yeah? I mean, I assumed. I can’t really afford to buy out your half, and I never intended to live here without you so...” Clint’s blushing again. “I just needed a place to stay and we already had the loan for the improvements. Figured I could do some of the repairs before it went on the market and we could get a better price out of it.” 

Bucky has to sit down at the kitchen table before his knees give out on him. Of course, he’d known the logistics of divvying up a formerly shared life, but he and Clint had never actually talked about it together. 

“Is that what you want?” 

Clint jerks his head out of the fridge again, and for the first time, there’s anger along with regret on his face. “It’s never been what I wanted, but here we are.” 

It’s awkward after that; how could it not be? Bucky gets up and brews coffee while Clint makes pancakes, Lucky darting in and out between them as he runs around the kitchen. It’s like every breakfast they’ve ever made together and simultaneously nothing like them at all. It hurts Bucky, way down deep, and he resolves that no matter how hard it is, he’s going to do something about it. Clint deserves at least that much. 

Clint makes Lucky his own pancake with no syrup, cuts it into pieces and puts it on a plate on the floor along with one crunched up piece of bacon. Bucky laughs and the tension dissipates a little when Clint grins back at him. 

“What? He’s had a hard life. He deserves pancakes and bacon.” 

It’s the same argument Clint uses every time he gives Lucky something he probably shouldn’t. Bucky just shakes his head. 

“He’s going to be the size of a house.” 

“He just walked like two hundred miles. I should give him another pancake.” 

“Sure, let’s reward him for running away and terrifying me.” 

Clint gives him a little smile as he plates pancakes for Bucky. “Fine, half a pancake then since he didn’t leave a note.” 

Bucky laughs as he takes his plate to the table, drowns his pancakes in way more syrup than is advisable. Clint sits down with his plate, uses far less syrup than Bucky, but a lot more milk in his coffee. When he’s working or waking up, he likes it black, but if he’s just indulging, he likes milk in it. It’s kind of comforting to see the things that haven’t changed. 

They spend breakfast mostly catching each other up on what they’ve been doing. Clint still teaches archery at a boarding school in Manhattan, so he gets school breaks. He's been using that time to work on the farmhouse, same as when they’d been together. They’d spent every break and most weekends at the farmhouse, fixing it up. 

Bucky’s life has changed the most, and while he’s eager to share with Clint, it feels strange that there are things that Clint doesn’t know about him. They’d been so close for so long, practically living in each other’s pockets even before they’d dated. The only person Bucky had ever been closer to is Steve. 

“Do you remember Steve’s friend Sam?” 

Clint tilts his head, clearly thinking. “The good-looking guy from the VA?” 

Bucky narrows his eyes. “From the VA, yeah.” 

Clint grins, goes back to eating his pancakes. Bucky sighs and continues with his original story. 

“I got Sam to get me a referral to a counselor through the VA.” Bucky blushes, looks down at his plate. “I had some issues to work on.” 

He feels a nudge to his ankle and looks up to find Clint smiling softly at him. He knocks back, manages a smile. 

“Her name is Carol, and she’s great. Her unit served with Steve’s during his third tour. When Steve brought me the info on the Stark prosthetic, I was all hell no. Carol helped talk me through it.” 

He still isn’t sure why he’d been so dead set against the new arm. His head is screwed on a lot straighter than it used to be, but he’s still a mystery to himself sometimes. 

“That’s how Steve met Tony, the guy that designed my arm. He came with me to all my appointments and the surgery to attach it. Then the follow-ups.” Bucky grins. “I’m pretty sure by that point it was so he could angry flirt with Stark.” 

Clint’s smiling but there are shadows in his eyes. Bucky knocks their ankles together again. “What’s that look for?” 

Clint shrugs. “It’s stupid. I just wish I’d been there for you is all.” 

“Hey, don’t. I know you would have been. It was my stupidity that made it impossible.” 

Clint nods, then pushes away from the table to go rinse his empty plate. He takes his time putting it in the dishwasher and Bucky lets him have the moment. Clint brings the coffee pot over and refills both of their cups then wanders back to rinse that too. He’s visibly brighter when he comes back to the table. 

“If you’re finished eating, we could take coffee out to the porch swing? Let Lucky run around and work off that humongous breakfast.” 

Bucky rolls his eyes, but he’s stupidly happy to be the subject of Clint’s teasing. “Sure, let me rinse my plate and I’ll join you guys.” 

It’s a perfect day to be outside, and he settles happily into the porch swing next to Clint. The back porch off the kitchen is screened in, but the front is open and airy. Clint has a foot on the porch, and he swings them gently as he tosses the occasional frisbee for Lucky to bound after. Lucky abandons the game quicker than usual, probably thanks to all his extra exercise. He flops down in the sun for a nap, leaving Clint and Bucky to talk in peace. Bucky isn’t really sure where to start. He knows he wants to talk to Clint for real, but what if Clint doesn’t want that? What if he’s moved on? Before he can say anything, Clint turns to him with a smile. 

“So, Steve has a boyfriend now, huh?” 

Bucky snorts a laugh. “Yeah. All those years of pining after his college sweetheart after she moved back to England? I really thought he’d never go on a date again. Then he meets Tony and it’s hate at first sight.” 

“You mentioned the angry flirting. How does that even work?” 

“Oh god, it was awful. And fucking funny. I wish I had video. Every time they were in the same room they’d be in each other’s faces, arguing. Then Tony would storm away, and Steve’s eyes would be glued to his ass. Or Steve would pout in the corner with his arms crossed over his chest, and Tony would be salivating. I never knew if it was over Steve’s biceps or his rack.” 

Clint laughs so hard he inhales coffee. “It is a nice rack. If Steve weren’t like my brother.” 

Bucky hums in agreement. “It got so bad that I wanted to back out of the program. Like, how the hell could I trust this guy to get the arm on right if he’s all moony over Steve? Then they screwed it out of their systems and they’re nauseatingly sweet.” 

“Good for Steve. He deserves someone nice.” 

Bucky snorts again. “I don’t know that I’d call Stark nice, but he sure loves Stevie a lot.” He glances down at the cup in his hand. “Was hard to be around them for a while. Honeymoon stage and all.” 

Clint makes a sympathetic noise and when Bucky glances over, his cheeks go pink and he looks away. “I know what you mean. The couple that own the farm down the road have apple trees and she’s always bringing me pie and applesauce because I helped keep up the plowing and stuff over the winter. They’ve been married fifty years and she still blushes when he calls her honey. It’s nice.” 

Bucky hears the note of longing in Clint’s voice. He gets it; he’d planned on fifty years, at least, when he’d put his ring on Clint’s finger. Clint looks back and their gazes meet, and this time, neither of them look away. Bucky opens his mouth, though he has no idea what he’s going to say, hesitates when his phone signals incoming text. He fishes the thing out to find a text from Steve. 

_Everything okay? You’re quiet._

Bucky realizes then that he’s been with Clint for almost three hours. Steve really is the best. He looks up to find Clint watching him. 

“That Steve?” 

“Yeah. I didn’t realize it’d had been so long.” Bucky frowns down at his phone. “I should tell him to come get me. Can’t leave him in the park all day.” 

Clint’s face falls. “I guess not.” He looks across the yard to where Lucky is snoring in the sun, a look of longing on his face. “I missed that dumb dog. Guess this is why people have custody agreements, huh?” 

It’s not the best joke, but Bucky gets it. 

“He misses you too.” Bucky hesitates then figures fuck it. Carol is always telling him he needs to learn to ask for what he wants. Being an asshole in the past doesn’t mean he can’t mend fences and have nice things now. “I miss you too.” 

Clint’s gaze whips to his and the look in his eyes breaks Bucky’s breath catches. Everything Clint feels has always been right there in his eyes for Bucky to see. Now he sees pain and loss mixed with a tentative hope. 

“I missed you too. I wanted to call you so many times, but it didn’t seem right. I’m the one that left.” 

“I made you leave.” 

Clint bites his lip then seems to come to a decision. “Can you stay?” 

“I’d love to. For how long?” 

If it’s up to Bucky, the answer is forever, but that’s kind of pushing it. 

“Couple days? I don’t know. Long enough to have a real talk.” Clint’s cheeks go pink. “You still have stuff here. I should have sent it back, but I couldn’t ever seem to make myself do it.” 

Bucky gets it. Clint had taken his clothes, but there had been some things in the wash he’d missed. Bucky still sleeps in his T-shirts on really bad nights when he misses Clint too much. 

“Let me text Steve, and I’m all yours.” 

Bucky hadn’t meant to put himself out there like that this soon, but the way Clint beams at him makes it worth it. 

Bucky calls Steve, who is ecstatic at the turn of events. Bucky is hopeful too, but he’s trying not to get ahead of himself. A year and a half is long time, and Bucky has changed a lot from the guy he was before the accident. He’s getting better and is proud of how far he’s come since starting therapy, but he’ll never be who he used to be. 

He ends his call with Steve and wanders into the house to find Clint. Clint’s finishing with kitchen clean-up, the dishwasher running quietly. He shoots Bucky a little smile when he comes inside. 

“I was checking the fridge to see what I had for dinner. I don’t cook much since it’s just me, but I do have stuff so we could put steaks on the grill, bake some potatoes. I’ll have to put in a grocery order tomorrow. If there’s stuff you want, you can write it on the list on the fridge.” 

“That sounds good. I’m on summer break too so...” He ducks his head, bashful. “I, uh, went back to school. Like I planned, before.” 

“Bucky, that’s great! What did you settle on?” 

Bucky hadn’t made a concrete decision other than he wanted a degree, and then the accident had happened. After he’d started seeing Carol, he’d thrown around the idea of being a therapist – physical or mental – but that hadn’t been on his radar before the accident and he’s not sure his temperament lends itself to that kind of career. 

“I got accepted into Columbia. Their Biomedical Engineering program.” He shrugs his left shoulder. “Stark already wants me to intern with him.” 

“Holy shit, that’s amazing.” 

Bucky grins sheepishly. “Yeah, it was hard work, but I did it. Had to threaten Stark, though. He wanted to pull strings. I told him that was not the way to get into Steve’s pants.” 

Clint cracks up, and Bucky feels his nerves settle. He’d been afraid Clint would be upset; they’ve done so much apart from one another that they’d always planned to do together. But Clint is Clint, and he’s always just wanted Bucky to be happy.

➳ ✪ ➳

They spend the next few days working on the house together, re-learning the easy companionship they’d had back when they’d been friends and roommates. There are added layers to it now, of course, but neither one of them seem ready to poke at old wounds. Bucky figures it will come. For now, there are jobs that Clint has been putting off because they’ll be easier with two people. The downstairs consists of the kitchen with a laundry room and a small guest bathroom off of it and a mudroom on the other side. There’s a large dining room, a smaller living room, and a tiny library/den space. Clint wants to gut the dining room and widen the living room and den both.

“Nobody eats in a dining room. That’s what the kitchen is for. I don’t know why this living room is so small. Family should have a space to hang out together.” 

There’s a wistfulness to his voice that makes Bucky want to hug him. He doesn’t know much more about Clint’s childhood than what he’d told Steve on the night Lucky had run away. Clint always says that it’s old news, and with his parents and brother dead, why rehash all the unpleasantness? He’s never talked about wanting his own family, but he loves hanging out with Bucky’s parents and sister. Bucky had known he was a keeper the first time he’d taken Clint home and Clint had spent the evening wrapped up in Bucky’s grandma’s quilt, playing a cutthroat game of Go Fish with Bucky’s sister, Becca. Bucky had never seen him laugh so much, and he’d resolved then and there to take Clint home more often. 

He knows Clint is still in touch with his family because his mother, Winnifred, wouldn’t let Clint pull away from them. She still calls Clint every Sunday, on holidays, and on his birthday. It lessens Bucky’s guilt a little that he hadn’t cost Clint his second family. 

“Alright then. Let’s knock down some walls.” 

They hang up sheets of plastic to close off the kitchen and then proceed to do just that. It’s incredibly therapeutic. At the end of the first day, Bucky’s back and shoulders are screaming at him, but he feels an odd sense of satisfaction. Clint gets one look at his face, and laughs. 

“Good therapy, huh? When I first started seeing my shrink, I’d come home and tear some shit up. Made me feel better about all the emotional shit.” 

“I don’t think they like being called shrinks,” Bucky muses, and Clint just snorts. He doesn’t offer anything else and Bucky doesn’t push. They have time.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains brief discussions about Clint and Bucky's accident, and mentions Clint's childhood. If you need more information, please reach out to me!

Bucky’s been there almost a week, and he and Clint are getting closer. It’s not as good as before the accident, but it’s a hell of a lot better than they’d been after. Bucky goes to bed in one of the guest rooms (relegated back to an air mattress on the floor because Clint hasn’t started on the upstairs yet) feeling hopeful. 

He wakes up with a scream locked behind his teeth, thunder rumbling in the distance as rain falls softly against the roof. He lies still for a long time, trying to even out his breathing. It’s not a big storm, nothing like the night he lost his arm, but he supposes that all of the time talking with Clint has brought everything close to the surface. 

He gets out of bed, intending to go downstairs for a glass of milk. He pauses at the master bedroom door, trying not to feel like a creep at the need to check on Clint. Clint’s bed is empty, the sheets rumpled, but a quick tour of the house doesn’t produce him or Lucky. In the kitchen, Bucky sees that the light above the barn door is on. He can see Clint standing in the rain, tossing a tennis ball for Lucky. Talking a deep breath, he eases out the back door to join them. 

It’s a beautiful night, the rain warm and smelling sweet. Bucky would have loved it, once, but now he has to force himself not to duck back into the safety of the house. Lucky has wandered off to investigate something, and Clint is standing in the moonlight, face tipped up to the sky. 

He’s so fucking beautiful that it hurts Bucky to look at him. 

Bucky walks across the yard, ignoring the way the wet grass feels against his bare feet. Clint must notice him coming, because he turns to face Bucky with a tremulous smile. Bucky starts to smile when something about Clint’s expression as him hurrying to close the distance between them. He cups Clint’s face in his hands, searching. 

“What’s wrong, sweetheart? Are you hurt?” 

The endearment slips out without him thinking about it, but Clint doesn’t seem to mind. He closes his eyes, turns his face into Bucky’s palm. It’s not raining hard, and Bucky is almost positive there are tears on Clint’s cheeks. 

“Lucky always loved playing outside in the rain, remember?” 

Bucky nods, sweeps his thumb across Clint’s cheekbone. “He’s a water dog, that’s for sure.” 

Clint laughs a little, but his eyes are devastated. “I had a nightmare. Probably shouldn’t have come out here considering what it was about, but he was so excited. I couldn’t tell him no.” 

That was Clint, down to his bones. He would always do whatever he could to make someone he loves happy, no matter what it costs him. 

“Do you want to tell me about it? It helps, sometimes.” 

Clint shrugs, his gaze shifting away and then back. “It’s always the same. We’re heading to dinner, it’s raining, but when I dream about it, I see it coming.” 

Bucky winces; he remembers fragments of that night, flashes really, but he knows it happened fast. Neither of them had seen it coming. 

“I see it, but I still can’t stop it. I can’t.... and I remember the sound of the metal screeching when he hit us. I remember the glass shattering. It seems like it goes on forever and no time at all. And then...” 

Clint swallows hard, and he’s crying openly now. Bucky wants to pull him close, but Clint isn’t asking for that and he’s afraid to overstep. 

“You can tell me.” 

Clint hesitates, and that’s fair. Bucky has never wanted to talk about that night. Finally, Clint’s gaze slides away, and his shoulders hunch miserably. 

“I can hear you screaming.” He looks back up and his eyes are full of pain. “I tried to get to you, Bucky, I swear I did, but the seat belt was twisted and locked up. I couldn’t get out. I tried reaching for you, but it was so dark, and the rain... I couldn’t find you. I couldn’t see you. I could just hear you screaming.” 

Bucky has to hold him then, pulling Clint in close and holding on tight. Clint hugs back, fingers gripping Bucky’s T-shirt in a death grip as he sobs against Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky doesn’t know how long they stand there, but they’re both soaking wet messes when Clint finally eases back. 

“I’m so sorry, Clint. I never knew you remembered all of that. I don’t.... I don’t really remember anything.” 

Clint’s smile is watery. “Well, head trauma and the rest will probably do that to a guy.” 

Bucky starts to answer, but a crack of thunder has them both jumping. “Can we go inside? I really don’t like this.” 

Clint nods and whistles for Lucky. The dog comes bounding back to them, tongue lolling in a happy grin. Bucky reaches out for Clint’s hand, smiling when Clint takes it and threads their fingers together. Inside, Clint takes a minute to dry off the dog while Bucky grabs some hand towels from the guest bathroom off the laundry room. It’s not enough, but it’ll let them get upstairs without making too much of a mess. 

Clint stays close as they make their way upstairs. They pause at the doorway of the master bedroom and Bucky hesitates. Clint glances at him then seems to decide. 

“Can you come back here after you clean up? I don’t really want to be alone right now.” 

“Yeah, of course,” Bucky agrees, relieved. He’s not ready to be alone either. 

He hurries off to the guest room and showers quickly. After, he dresses in clean pajama pants and a T-shirt. He tugs on socks, ponders a hoodie. Clint can’t sleep without blankets so he’ll have the central air cranked in the bedroom. Bucky knows there will be enough blankets to compensate, and he’s been hanging out with Clint in T-shirts. He doesn’t have to cover the arm; it doesn’t seem to freak Clint out at all. 

Back in Clint’s room, he hesitates then knocks on the door jamb. The door is open but it doesn’t seem right to just come in. He hears Clint holler at him and goes insides. Clint must be getting dressed in the attached master bath because the bedroom is empty. Bucky takes a minute to let himself admire the work Clint has put into the room. He’s running his hand over the headboard of Clint’s king-sized bed when Clint comes in. 

“I wasn’t going to bother redoing this space because I just sleep here, but after the first couple of nights of tearing down walls in the laundry room, I hated the damn air mattress,” Clint says, fingers twisting in his shirt in that way it does when he’s nervous. “I abandoned the laundry room and switched to working on this room and the bathroom. I think it came out okay.” 

“Clint, it’s gorgeous.” 

The room is mostly dark but Bucky has passed by it enough in the daylight to know that the creams and browns are an excellent choice with the clearly handmade furniture Clint had chosen. The wood is beautiful and Bucky hadn’t been able to resist touching it. Clint is smiling softly. 

“Thanks. There’s a shop in town that does good work. I loved the furniture and just couldn’t resist.” 

He moves closer to the bed and pulls the covers back, slides in. He hesitates briefly but holds the corners up in clear invitation. Bucky’s heart is pounding as he climbs into bed with Clint for the first time in nearly two years. He knows it’s just companionship and safety, and he’s okay with that. He could use some of the himself right now. 

After some awkwardness, the end up on their sides, facing one another. It’s dark enough that they can’t clearly see one another which makes talking easier. Clint’s hand snakes across the small space they’ve left between them and Bucky reaches back, tangles their fingers together. 

They’re quiet for a while, soaking in the warmth under the blankets, then Clint sighs heavily. “I never knew that. That you didn’t remember the accident.” 

He can hear the guilt in Clint’s voice. “Don’t. You can’t feel bad about that. I never told you.” 

“I feel like it’s my fault you didn’t. Like I didn’t push enough. But you were so hurt, and I didn’t want to cause you more pain.” Clint’s breath hitches. “I’d already done enough.” 

“Wait, what are you talking about?” 

Clint shrugs, and he won’t look up. “It was my fault. If I’d been paying more attention, or been quicker. It’s... there had to be something I could have done.” 

Bucky squeezes Clint’s hand. “Clint, the accident was not your fault.” 

Even in the dark, Bucky can see that Clint is shaking. “How can you say that? I was driving. I did this to us. To _ you_. Just like... 

Clint scrambles to his knees, moving to get up, and Bucky reacts without thinking. He sits up and pulls Clint to him, holds on tight like he had outside. Clint goes rigid for a minute, and Bucky thinks he might be getting a knee to the balls. Then all the fight goes out of Clint and he sags against Bucky, lets himself be held. Bucky leans back again, settles Clint against his chest. He rubs at Clint’s back, feels the trembling under his palm. 

“Talk to me, sweetheart, please?” Clint gives a watery laugh, and Bucky smiles ruefully. “I know, I know. I wish I had listened to you when you asked me to talk. Maybe I wouldn’t have lost you.” 

Clint shudders and wiggles closer, and Bucky lets him, presses a kiss to Clint’s temple. Clint’s voice is low, almost inaudible, when he finally speaks. “You know that my dad drank too much. Knocked us all around when he did. They died when I was six. My brother Barney was eleven. It was... he was drunk and driving them home from a bar when he lost control and hit a tree. They both died at the scene.” 

Bucky’s heart shatters at the pain in Clint’s voice. “God, Clint, that’s awful, and I’m so sorry. But what happened to us is not the same.” 

“’s my fault.” 

Bucky gets a finger under Clint’s chin and urges his head up. Clint complies, reluctantly. “Clint, no one blames you.” 

Clint’s gaze skitters away, and his voice goes even softer. “You do.” 

Bucky looks down at him, stunned. “Why would you...” 

Clint shrugs, and he still won’t look at Bucky. “You were so angry at me, all the time. And I deserved it! I know I did. But you wouldn’t let me help. You wouldn’t let me tell you how sorry I am.” 

Bucky isn’t aware he’s crying until his vision wavers and he has to blink away tears in order to see Clint’s face. “Oh, God, Clint. I’m so fucking sorry. I never meant to make you feel like that. You have to believe me. I never blamed you, not once.” 

Clint finally meets his eyes, and he shifts enough to reach up and brush at the tears on Bucky’s cheek. “But you were so mad me. I couldn’t do anything right.” 

Bucky gathers him close because he doesn’t know what else to do. He’d known that he’d hurt Clint, but he’d never known how much. “I was angry at everything. At life, the universe, Mother Nature for the fucking storm. The dickhead who was texting. Apple for making the phone the dickhead was texting on. Hell, I don’t really believe in God anymore, but I was pissed at Him too. Two fucking tours overseas, and not so much as a hangnail. I come home to start living my life with my best guy and that’s when I get hurt? I was fucking _furious_.” 

He moves them so Clint’s straddling him and he can cup Clint’s face in his hands. “But I was never actually angry at you. It’s just... you and Steve were the closest to me so you got the brunt of it.” He rests his forehead against Clint’s, voice thick with shame. “I wish there were words to take back all the pain I’ve caused you. I’m so God damn sorry. I don’t know why you put up with me for so long.” 

“I love you. Didn’t want to be anywhere else. I kept thinking things would get better, but they didn’t. After a while, it was obvious I wasn’t helping so I had to leave. I didn’t want to, but I thought it would be best for you.” He takes another shuddering breath. “I wasn’t wrong. Look at you, Buck. You’re doing amazing.” 

There’s no way Bucky is going let him believe that, not for one second. “You weren’t wrong, but you’re not right either. I feel like I was half asleep back then. Just going through the motions. When you actually left, it was a slap to the face. It made me wake up and really start looking at myself and what I was doing. At first, I started the therapy thing for you. I thought that if I could get better then you’d come back. But that’s not how it works. I had to do these things for me.” 

Clint wraps himself around Bucky and Bucky can feel the hot wash of tears against his shoulder. His own are falling into Clint’s hair and they’re a freaking mess, they really are. But Bucky feels lighter than he has in a long time. 

Bucky can feel the minute Clint falls asleep on him. The tears have tapered off, but Clint’s breathing still hitches occasionally. He’s heavy too, but Bucky wouldn’t move him for the world. He’s missed this too much. He gets a tighter hold on Clint, wiggles carefully until he’s comfortable. There’s so much more to talk about, but it can’t all be done in a day. Bucky hurts, and he knows Clint does to. They need time to process, to heal, but Bucky’s hopeful that they’re going to do it together.


	4. Chapter 4

The next few days prove Bucky right, and he spends most of his time with a stupid smile on his face. They work on the house together, make meals together, walk the dog. After some discussion, Bucky calls Carol and she agrees to have Skype couples' sessions with them until they’re both back in the city. Clint has a bit of an antagonistic relationship with his therapist, Maria, and it works for them one-on-one. Clint doesn’t think it’ll work as a couple thing and he’s willing to give Carol a try. 

It’s rough in the beginning, but Bucky knows from experience that it’ll get better. And if it brings him and Clint back together, then it’ll be worth it in the end. 

It’s proving to be an odd summer, weather-wise, with temperatures in the low 80s one day and then 90 the next. They prefer to keep the windows open to help with the mess they inevitably make while renovating, and Bucky is spending most of his time in sleeveless T-shirts or tank tops. He catches Clint looking sometimes, and he’s never completely sure if it’s the metal arm that is grabbing the attention. He’s kind of hoping it’s him, that Clint still finds him attractive, but he can’t just ask. Carol would roll her eyes at that, but luckily, she can't read his mind so he can keep this one to himself. 

He’s helping Clint mud drywall one sticky afternoon, and he’s somehow managed to get gunk in the plates of his arm. Tony is probably going to kill him. Sighing, he sets his pan of compound down on the sheeted floor and rolls his shoulder, crocks the elbow to get the plates to realign. He hears something hit the floor and looks up to see Clint bending down to pick up the putty knife he’s apparently dropped. His cheeks are pink and he doesn’t look at Bucky when he straightens up. Shit. He’s going to have to ask. Kind of. 

“Clint?” 

“Yeah, Buck?” 

Clint is studiously avoiding looking at him as he applies mud with way more care than is warranted. Bucky sighs. 

“Does the arm bother you?” 

Clint’s head shoots up, and he looks surprised. “What? No. Why are you asking?” 

“Because you’re acting weird and avoiding looking at it?” 

Clint sighs and sets down his equipment before he walks over to Bucky. His cheeks are still pink, but he doesn’t look upset or disgusted. 

“It doesn’t bother me, I promise. I just... it’s kind of fascinating? But I don’t want to be weird about it?” Clint’s eyes are wary as they watch Bucky. “You never wanted me to see, before.” 

That had been true enough. Bucky had kept the stump of his shoulder covered at all times, no matter how hot it was. He’d hated the empty sleeves on his shirts, but he’d hated the stump more, and hadn’t wanted anyone to look at it. 

"I don’t mind if you look.” 

There’s a whole wealth of double meaning in that phrase and Bucky isn’t sure if he’s happy or not that it seems to go right over Clint’s head. He takes the statement at face value, and reaches out to carefully run his fingertips along Bucky’s forearm. The plates shift and his fingers twitch, making Clint jump back. 

“Oh shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” 

“Doesn’t hurt,” Bucky promises. “There’s just sensors in there that make it work like my other arm. Sometimes they’re a little more sensitive and I can’t always control the small movements yet.” 

“That is fucking amazing.” 

Bucky laughs and holds his arm out so Clint can explore. “It really is. When Stark says he’s a genius, he’s not just stroking his own ego. He’s really fucking brilliant.” 

“How sensitive is it?” 

“You mean like pain and stuff?” He waits for Clint’s nod before he answers. “It’s attached to nerves in my shoulder. It can get hurt, but it takes a lot. Like today. My back and shoulders will be sore from the work, and my right hand might be cramped or tired. The left won’t be. It has to be more extreme for me to register pain. But I can sense hot and cold, stuff like that.” 

Clint has been gently touching the arm while Bucky explains, and he nods thoughtfully. “It’s freaking awesome.” He glances up, almost shy. “You can feel things, like when you pet Lucky. Or if... if you touched me.” 

“Yeah, I feel that.” He reaches up and runs metal fingers along the line of Clint’s jaw. “Your skin is warm. Not exactly soft but not rough either.” He grins. “You probably need a shave.” 

Clint’s blushing like crazy and it’s so ridiculously hot. He’d never been a blusher before, and Bucky finds it fascinating. They’re staring at one another, standing maybe a little too close, and Bucky wonders if maybe it would be okay to kiss Clint. He could ask, should ask, but then there’s the sound of a vehicle outside and Lucky barking as the mailman stops at the top of the drive. They move apart, and the moment is broken. 

They go back to mudding the room, the silence a little more weighted than it was before. Bucky’s finished about half of his wall before Clint speaks again. 

“Can I ask you something that’s maybe a little rude?” 

“Well, yeah. Go for it.” 

“Why metal? Why not...” 

Clint’s words trail off, but Bucky gets it. “Why not more like a real arm?” Clint nods, looking relieved when it’s obvious that Bucky isn’t angry. “Tony has sleeves for it, and he’s working on a line that is more... lifelike, to use a shitty term. But...” Bucky pauses, trying to find the right words. “People look. When the sleeve was empty. They look now, but it’s different. The metal is just right there. If it’s flesh-colored, then it’s like they have to stare more? Like they can’t be sure of what they’ve seen so they look harder.” Bucky ducks his head. “I don’t like it when they stare. This is just...” 

“In your face.” 

Bucky looks up, to see Clint looking sheepish. “I didn’t mean that in a bad way. It’s just... yep, here’s my arm. It’s metal. Now move along.” 

“Something like that I guess,” Bucky says with a laugh. 

Clint nods, turns back to his task. “I get it, but I’m not sure you’re gonna get what you want.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Clint shrugs, doesn’t turn around. “You’re fucking gorgeous, and the arm is stunning. People are going to look. Pretty sure it won’t be because they’re wondering why you have a metal arm.” 

Bucky spends the rest of the afternoon overheated in a way that has nothing to do with the weather. 

Two days later, the sander breaks in the middle of their project. They want to get finished so they head into town for a replacement and other supplies. Bucky doesn’t even think to change, wanders into the hardware store in dark jeans and a white tank, hair in a messy bun. He gets more than a few stares; the kid helping load the truck slips Bucky a receipt with his number printed on it. Clint laughs the whole way home. 

The asshole.


	5. Chapter 5

Bucky wanders downstairs just as dawn is pinking the sky. He’s sleeping better than he has since the accident, but he still tends to be an early riser. He makes a pot of coffee, fills Lucky’s food and water dishes while it brews. The dog shows up just as the coffee is finishing, but there’s no sign of Clint. Bucky has his tablet for company, and he takes it and his first cup of coffee out onto the back porch. He lets Lucky out for some early morning squirrel chasing and settles in with his coffee and book. It’s a gorgeous morning, the heat of the last few weeks giving them a break. 

He’s on his second cup of the day when Clint joins him, all bleary eyes and bed head. He’s wrapped in a quilt from the bed and he makes a beeline for Bucky and the lounger he’s sitting on. He crawls right in and curls himself into Bucky’s side. Bucky smiles and slides an arm around Clint, goes back to reading his book. An hour or so later, Clint stirs. He takes his time waking up, groaning and stretching. 

“Why are we awake? It’s still dark.” 

“It is not,” Bucky says, amused. “It’s almost seven. The sun’s been awake for hours.” 

“Yeah, well, the sun’s stupid,” Clint grumbles, pulling his quilt tighter and mashing his face into Bucky’s chest. Bucky cards metal fingers carefully through Clint’s hair. He knows he can hold the tablet with his left hand, it’s calibrated to the metal so he can turn pages and things, but he’s still cautious. Clint never seems to mind when Bucky touches him with the left hand, but that doesn’t mean he wants his hair yanked out if Bucky isn’t careful enough. 

“Did you look at the weather yet?” 

“Yeah, looks like we’re in for some nice days. No humidity, low 80s. Good working conditions.” 

Clint hums in agreement then pops his head up. “Not today, though. I’m making an executive decision.” 

“Oh yeah?” 

“Yep. We’ve been working non-stop since you got here. We’re having a non-working day.” 

“Works for me.” 

Clint grins at him, clearly pleased that Bucky is on board. “I’m going to go shower and then make breakfast. We’ll head out after.” 

He bounds away, whistling, and Bucky smiles as he watches him go. A day just hanging out with Clint sounds amazing.

➳ ✪ ➳

It’s late morning before they actually head out. Clint had cooked breakfast and Bucky had insisted on cleaning up. Then Clint decided they should pack a lunch and it took forever for him to dig out a cooler and get it packed. He’d packed some other things in a knapsack that he refused to let Bucky see, and then they were finally off. They head through the back yard and past the lawn, Bucky content to let Clint lead them down a grassy path. They’d explored, of course, before they bought the place, and had spent time there before everything went to hell. But Clint knows the place better, has had more time to settle in.

They pass a farm full of apple trees and Clint gets a wave from the elderly lady hanging her wash in the backyard. He waves back and Lucky takes off for a minute to go say hi. Clint keeps walking, apparently unconcerned about leaving Lucky behind. Not that Bucky thinks the dog will let them go far. He’s not really let them out of sight since Bucky had arrived at the farm. 

“That’s Mrs. Garnett. I told you about them, remember?” 

“The one who brings you pies and applesauce?” 

“Yep. She’s the best. She made the quilt that’s on my bed.” 

Bucky has to smile at that. There’s just something about Clint that makes you want to take care of him. He’s glad that even when he’s out here alone, Clint has people who care. 

They come around a curve and a break in the apple trees to a small pond glittering under the sunlight. Clint sets his knapsack down in the shade of a tree, and Bucky sets the basket with their lunch next to it. Lucky comes loping up the path, gives an excited bark when he sees the water. He’s off like a shot, leaping into the water like the overgrown puppy he really is. Clint laughs, holding up a hand to shade his eyes as he watches the dog’s antics. 

“He’s okay to swim here?” 

“Oh yeah, of course. This is still the Garnett property and this part borders the back of ours. The Garnett's aren’t much for swimming anymore and they let me come out here whenever I want to.” 

“I didn’t bring anything to swim in.” 

He feels stupid saying it. Once upon a time, they’d have gone in naked and not thought twice about it. Clint doesn’t seem to think he’s being stupid, waves a hand toward the knapsack. 

“I brought shorts. I’ve got an older pair of mine for you. They should be okay for you except for... well.” 

Bucky arches a brow. If they’re not at the skinny-dipping stage, they’re definitely not at the commenting on dicks stage. Clint rolls his eyes. 

“Your thighs have gotten kind of ridiculous, dumb ass.” 

That makes Bucky blush. He hadn’t realized that Clint had noticed. “I run with Steve. It’s surprisingly good for clearing your head.” 

“That’s not all it’s good for,” Clint says, not quietly enough that Bucky doesn’t catch it. 

He’s still blushing when Clint tosses the shorts and shirt at him, then pulls out his own shorts. He starts skimming out of his clothes and Bucky makes himself turn away. He concentrates on getting dressed and tries to ignore the sound of Clint doing the same. He folds his clothes neatly and lays them with the picnic basket and when he allows himself to look, Clint is dressed. Well, he’s in shorts, anyway, and Bucky supposes that’s all he’s going to get. 

Clint wanders around most days like he’s allergic to shirts so this isn’t the first time Bucky has seen his chest. He’s had plenty of time to catalog the differences a year and half of hard physical labor have had on Clint’s body. Clint’s biceps and shoulders have always been insane, thanks to archery, but he’s definitely got more muscle now. 

Bucky tries, and fails, not to admire his ass in the swim shorts as Clint walks toward the pond. This is the most he’s seen of Clint in years and he knows he shouldn’t look, but he can’t help it. Then Clint turns his head and throws a wink over his shoulder and Bucky has to laugh. Okay, maybe he is allowed to look. 

Clint’s laughing too as he joins Lucky in the water. Lucky barks excitedly, looks toward the grass like he can’t figure out why Bucky hasn’t joined them. Bucky doesn’t really have a good reason now that he can’t stare at Clint’s ass. 

The water is cooler than Bucky thought it would be given the weather they’ve had but it’s not uncomfortable. They splash around, play with Lucky. Clint challenges him to a lap across the pond and back. Bucky blames his arm when he loses. 

“Uh huh. Admit it, Barnes. I’m just better than you.” 

“Heavy. Metal. Arm.” 

“Heavy metal,” Clint snickers. 

Bucky rolls his eyes and dunks him. Clint comes up sputtering, scrubbing water off his face. Bucky flops back and folds his arm under his head, floats quietly in the cool water. Clint wrestles with Lucky for a bit until something off in the trees catches the dog’s attention. He wanders off to investigate and Clint swims over to Bucky. 

“It’s nice out here, huh?” 

Bucky hums agreement. He rolls over to tread water with Clint, reaches out to brush a stray blade of grass from Clint’s cheek. Clint eyes are dark and intent, and Bucky feels something warm in his belly. He’s unsure, though, in a way he can’t ever remember being with Clint. Not even on their first date. 

“Do you remember our first date?” 

Clint seems a little startled at the question, but he smiles. “Yeah, we had pasta at that cute little place in the Village. Before Steve’s first art show.” 

“Yeah, I...” Bucky blinks, tilts his head. “No, that’s not right. It was pizza at that mom and pop place in Brooklyn.” 

Clint frowns. “The one near the apartment you and Steve were sharing? Wait, that was a date?” 

“What do you mean was that a date? I took you out for your favorite food! We rented movies after and went back to my place. I made Steve spend the night with Sam so I didn’t have to deal with his teasing.” 

Clint’s expression is shocked. “That was six months before the art showing. We were dating for six months and I didn’t know?!” 

Bucky throws his head back, shoulders shaking with mirth. “Jesus, Clint. How did you not know? I was already so freaking gone for you.” 

Clint looks chagrined. “I don’t know! You were so fucking gorgeous and smart. Your sense of humor needed some work, but your ass made up for it.” Bucky glares and Clint smiles sweetly. “I was still getting over the fact that we were hanging out all the time as friends. The dating thing seemed too much to hope for.” 

Suddenly Clint starts laughing and he can’t seem to stop. He has tears in his eyes, and he has to grab on to Bucky to stay afloat. 

“Oh my god, Buck. We slept together for the first time after that art showing.” 

“Glad you remember that part,” Bucky grumbles. Clint just laughs harder. 

“I called Natasha the next day. Told her I’d put out on the first date and didn’t even feel bad about it. Here I thought I was easy, but I actually made you wait.” 

Bucky eyes him. “You’re a disaster,” he finally decides. 

“But a cute one,” Clint says, batting his eyelashes. 

“That’s why we never celebrated an anniversary until after we got married. You didn’t even know when it was!” 

That sets Clint off again, and Bucky has to hold the idiot so he doesn’t drown. He doesn’t mind that much; Clint feels good in his hands, and he’s always loved Clint’s laugh. Clint finally settles down, his breath hiccupping a little. His hands are on Bucky’s shoulders, their legs bumping together as they tread water. Clint’s eyes go soft, his gaze dropping to Bucky’s mouth, and Bucky has to kiss him. 

It’s soft at first, tentative, but then Clint lets go of his shoulder with one hand, gets his fingers into Bucky’s hair. He tugs just a little and Bucky moans. Clint takes the opportunity to lick into Bucky’s mouth and suddenly they’re kissing frantically. Clint is making those soft noises that Bucky remembers so well and it’s fucking perfect. Bucky’s got to stop thinking that word, he really does. 

A tsunami in the form of Lucky hits them with a splash, and they break apart, sputtering. Lucky, clearly unaware that he’s the fuzziest little cockblock ever, swims around them happily. Clint sighs, uses his grip on Bucky’s T-shirt to pull them closer together again. 

“I wonder what I’d get for him if I put him on eBay?” Bucky says, curling an arm around Clint’s waist. 

“They’d just give him back.” 

Clint turns to face Bucky, reaches up to brush hair off Bucky’s forehead. He runs his fingers through the wet strands, smiling. 

“Have I mentioned that I really like this?” 

“Yeah?” Bucky’d let his hair go after the accident but it hadn’t been this long when Clint had left. 

“It suits you.” Clint grins. “I would have never expected to be a fan of the man bun craze, but it’s damn sexy when you pull your hair back.” 

“I’ll remember that,” Bucky laughs. “It was kind of wild for a while. Stark told me I had to quit coming to my appointments looking like a sad hobo or he’d have security do a body cavity search. I decided not to test him on that.” 

“I really need to meet this guy.” Clint tugs at a lock of Bucky’s hair, smiles knowingly at the little moan Bucky can't stop. “We should probably get out for a while. My legs are getting tired.” 

“Your shoulders are getting red too. I’ll put some stuff on for you.” 

They make their way back to the grass, and Clint sits quietly as Bucky digs sunscreen out of the knapsack and slathers Clint’s shoulders. If it takes a while, he can blame the fact that he only uses his right hand, not wanting the stuff gunking up his metal hand. That’s his story anyway, though Clint’s little grin says he knows better. He swipes some sunscreen across Clint’s nose and cheeks then goes to rinse his hand off in the pond. They laze around in the grass, drying off, while Lucky snores nearby. 

He’s dozing a little too when he hears the grumble of Clint’s stomach. He rolls onto his side with a laugh, propping himself up on an elbow. Clint pats his belly, grinning. 

“Pancakes were a long time ago, Buck.” 

Bucky can’t argue with that. The exercise and fresh air have made him hungry too. He goes to fetch the cooler while Clint changes clothes. Bucky hands off the food then does the same. He’s less self-conscious than he was earlier, but he still keeps his back turned, and is grateful when he doesn’t feel eyes on him. He rejoins Clint to find him setting food out onto paper plates. 

Clint must have cleared out the fridge of leftovers because there’s a very eclectic selection for lunch. There’s cold fried chicken, some pasta salad that Bucky had made for lunch the other day. Clint’s not big on what anyone would call health food, but he loves watermelon, and there’s a container of watermelon chunks they’d picked up when they’d grocery shopped last. After Clint hands Bucky a plate, he digs a bottle of peach tea from the cooler and hands that over as well. Bucky’s become addicted to the stuff when he gets tired of water. 

They eat in companionable silence, both of them sharing with Lucky. They’ve demolished lunch and are sharing the chocolate chip cookies Clint packed for dessert, when Clint leans in to rest against Bucky’s side. Bucky lifts his arm and lets Clint snuggle in close. They’ve sat like this a hundred times before, but it feels like it means more now. He kisses Clint’s temple, and gets a grin. 

“I had a good time today,” Clint says quietly. “Thank you for coming with me.” 

“I had a good time too. Thank you for inviting me.” 

Clint smiles, warm and pleased. Lucky wanders over and sprawls across their laps. Bucky rubs metal fingers over a silky ear, listens to the dog snore as he and Clint soak up the sunshine.


	6. Chapter 6

The floodgates open after that and neither one of them hold back on casual touching. Clint will rest a hand on Bucky’s lower back when he moves past him in the kitchen, likes to tuck Bucky’s hair behind his ear when he wears it down. Bucky likes to skim metal fingers over Clint’s cheek, enjoys the contrast of Clint’s tanned skin against the silver vibranium. They kiss too, but it never goes beyond that. They still sleep in the same bed, though they’re less careful about space than they had been. Bucky wakes up hard, and he knows Clint does too. Can feel Clint’s cock pressed against him before they untangle for the morning. But Clint doesn’t push, and Bucky isn’t sure how to ask. 

He knows what Carol would say. Bucky sure as hell isn’t going to ask her. He’s never once discussed sex with her, except to confirm that all of his parts were in working order thank you very much. That had been uncomfortable enough, even if it had probably been necessary thanks to all the meds he’d been on after the crash. 

Instead of focusing on sex, Bucky focuses on showing Clint how much he’s changed. He needs Clint to know that he can be trusted not to hurt him. To that end, he takes Clint on dates. They go for pizza and to the movies. They go to the waterfront farmer’s market, which Bucky wouldn’t normally consider a date, but Clint is teaching him to cook so Bucky thinks the market counts. They’re finishing up the living room renovation, and Bucky thinks he loves that the best. Seeing the work he and Clint have done together to change the drab room for the better is incredibly satisfying. He’s starting to see why Clint had fallen in love with his second career.

➳ ✪ ➳

A week later, the living room is finished, and Clint takes Bucky shopping for furniture. Bucky is not a fan of shopping in general, but it turns out that it’s a hell of a lot of fun to pick the items that are going to go into the room he helped create. He picks out a gorgeous sectional, and an ottoman with storage space for all of the blankets Clint always insists are necessary for television watching. It hits him then that he’s picking out pieces that he intends for Clint to use, hopefully with him. It gives him pause; they’ve never talked about getting back together even if Bucky is pretty sure they’re on the same page there.

He pushes the thought down and finishes picking out pieces with Clint’s input. They’re in line so Clint can set up delivery and payment when the sticker shock sets in. Clint doesn’t bat an eye, hasn’t any time they’ve gone to pick up supplies. It’s a better puzzle to figure out than their relationship status and he decides to focus on that instead. 

Outside the furniture store, Bucky convinces Clint to go for an early lunch. They choose to sit in the outdoor patio, and given the hour, they’re the only patrons outside. Once they’ve ordered and the waitress has left them alone, Bucky clears his throat. 

“Can I ask you something kind of rude?” 

Clint smiles, clearly remembering their talk about Bucky’s arm. “Sure, go ahead.” 

“I remember when we bought this house, and made plans for the renovations.” They’d been able to swing the loan for the renovations because the asking price to purchase the house had been joke. It had needed a lot of work and the owners had just wanted to be done with it. “You’ve been carrying all of the workload and the financial part. I’d like to help, if you’d let me.” 

Clint blinks, surprised. “Oh, well. I mean...” 

“The loan is half my responsibility too, Clint.” Clint looks like he’d rather be in another state than have this conversation and Bucky isn’t really sure what to make of it. “We were supposed to do this together, Clint. It wasn’t right for me to leave you with everything.” 

“You didn’t, okay? These things happen. I mean, yeah, it sucked. I never saw us splitting up, but...” Clint squirms in his chair. “After everything exploded, I needed a place to crash that wasn’t Natasha’s. I just wanted to be alone. And the farmhouse was already ours. It hurt to be there without you, but the quiet was exactly what I needed. But I...” 

He sighs heavily and Bucky reaches out to take his hand. “What is it, Clint? 

“It didn’t seem right to use the line of credit with your name on it when we were divorcing so I’ve been paying for everything out of pocket.” 

“Jesus, Clint, why?” 

“Like I said, I couldn’t just rack up debt with your name on it. It wasn't right,” Clint insists stubbornly. “I flipped a couple of houses in the beginning to keep things going.” He shrugs, clearly self-conscious. “It was tight in the beginning. I ate a lot of hot dogs.” He looks at Bucky solemnly. “Without the buns, Buck.” 

Bucky manages the laugh Clint is clearly looking for, but he’s confused. 

“But what about the insurance money?” Now Clint looks like he wants to be in another _universe_. Bucky feels a headache coming on. “Clint?” 

Clint squirms some more and then his words come out all in a rush. “ItoldthemIdidn’twantanyofitandtogiveitalltoyou.” 

It takes Bucky a second to work that out and when he does, he stares at Clint in shock. Clint ducks his head, cheeks on fire. 

“Clint. That was...” 

“A quarter of a million, give or take. I grew up poor, Buck. What was I going to do with money like that? I didn’t need it, didn’t deserve it. I walked away without a scratch.” 

Bucky knows that’s not true at all; Clint’s injuries just aren’t the physical kind. Considering what Bucky had ended up with altogether, they’d offered Clint about half what they’d offered Bucky. It doesn’t seem right. Not when Clint is suffering too. 

He pushes back his chair and stands. Startled, Clint does the same, relaxing only slightly when Bucky pulls him into a bone crushing hug. 

“You didn’t have to do that but thank you.” 

It sounds like a lot of money, and Bucky supposes it is. If you don’t factor in medical bills and shit. Still, thanks to Clint and his G.I. Bill, he can concentrate on school without having to work or get student loans. In this day and age, it’s a godsend. 

They’re interrupted by the waitress bringing their meals. She stops, clearly unsure if she should approach or not and Bucky lets go of Clint. They both give their waitress sheepish grins. She smiles back tentatively and brings over their burgers. 

Lunch is eaten in relative silence, Bucky still stunned by Clint’s generosity. Finally, Clint sets his burger down with a sigh. 

“You’re being weird. Knock it off.” 

“I can’t help it. It’s not every day you find out someone has given you close to a million dollars.” 

Clint rolls his eyes. “I’ll take it back if it shuts you up.” 

“Nope, sorry, gave most of it to doctors and shit. The rest is in the bank for school.” 

Clint grins and kicks Bucky’s ankle. “Then shut up and eat your burger. You can pay for lunch if makes you feel better.” 

Bucky sighs heavily. “I don’t know. You got cheese _and_ mushrooms on the damn thing.” 

Clint throws a wadded-up napkin at him.

➳ ✪ ➳

Bucky wakes to the sound of rain on the roof and an empty bed. He rolls out bed and pads downstairs. He and Clint have both been sleeping without nightmares these days, but rain still makes them restless. He knows where to look for Clint and stands on the back porch to watch for a minute. The rain is gentle, the breeze warm, and Clint is laughing as tosses a ball for Lucky.

Something in Bucky breaks wide open at the sheer joy on Clint’s face. He’s in awe of this man, of his strength and kindness. He takes a deep breath and steps out into the rain. Lucky sees him first and lets out a happy bark, carries his ball over to Bucky. Bucky throws it with his right arm (they’ve lost more than a few playing around to see the range on the left one). 

Clint grins at him and when Bucky is close enough, he leaps. It’s weirdly reminiscent of Lucky’s greeting all those weeks ago, except that Bucky slips in the wet grass. They go down in a heap, Clint laughing uproariously as sprawls over Bucky. Their eyes meet and Clint’s go soft as he brushes Bucky’s hair back. 

“Hey Buck?” 

“Hmm?” 

“I love you.” 

Clint’s beaming and Bucky has to kiss that smile. Clint kisses him back, neither of them noticing Lucky dropping the tennis ball and wandering off to leave them alone. Bucky gets a hand on Clint’s nape and one on his lower back, holds them close as they kiss. Bucky pulls back to nip at Clint’s bottom lip. 

“Hey Clint?” 

Clint smiles, rests his forehead against Bucky’s. “Yeah?” 

“I love you too. Never stopped.” 

Clint kisses him so sweetly that Bucky thinks he might cry. Then Clint’s smile goes wicked and his next kiss is so filthy that Bucky’s toes curl. Jesus he’s missed this. He kisses back, moans softly when Clint licks into his mouth. He spreads his thighs, lets Clint settle between them. 

Clint’s hard when he rolls his hips tentatively against Bucky’s and Bucky’s certainly getting there. It’s the farthest they’ve gone in longer than Bucky wants to think about. They make out in the rain, under the stars, and Bucky can’t get enough. Clint’s a warm weight on top of him, his dick a solid line against Bucky’s, and he feels so damn good. 

They’re both breathing hard, hands roaming as they rut against each other. Clint kisses his way along Bucky’s jaw to suck on his earlobe and Bucky thinks he might die. He arches up against Clint, feels his entire body go tight when Clint bites him. Clint nuzzles behind his ear, licks the shell and Bucky freezes. 

“Stop, Clint. You got to stop.” 

Clint does immediately, looking down at Bucky with worry in his eyes. “What’s wrong, babe?” 

Bucky can’t stop the little whimper he lets out, and Clint grins at him. He’s had Bucky’s number for years, knows he’s a sucker for the things Clint calls him during sex. He forces his brain back out of Clint’s pants. 

“I’m fine, but I’m going to come if you keep this up.” 

“And that’s a bad thing?” Clint is frowning. 

“Well, no?” 

Clint laughs and leans down to kiss him. “I love you, but it’s literally been years. I’m not going to make it long enough for real sex. Just let me get you off, okay?” 

Bucky’s going to ask about that, but then Clint is sucking bruises into his throat, and his hips are moving again. Bucky gets back with the program, grabs hold of Clint’s ass with both hands and rolls his hips up. The friction is fucking perfect, and when Clint bites down on the curve of his collarbone, Bucky is done for. He comes with a loud cry, and Clint follows with that little whimper that Bucky knows so well. 

They lie in the grass for long moments, breathing heavy. The rain is soft, but it’s still weird to just lie around in it. Bucky turns his head to kiss Clint’s temple. 

“Could we go inside?” 

“Course. You okay?” 

“Yeah, just wet and uncomfortable. Coming in your pants is gross, Clint.” 

“But fun.” 

It had been, but Bucky’s over it now. Clint had always given him shit about not basking in the afterglow. Bucky figures he can learn, but it isn’t going to be in wet grass. 

Lucky follows them in, and the three of them pause in the mudroom. Clint dries off the dog before he swipes the towel over his own head. Bucky rolls his eyes, scrubbing at his hair with his own. 

“You’re going to smell like wet dog now.” 

“You’ll still love me.” 

“Probably.” 

Clint grins and then leads Bucky upstairs. They head for the master bath and Cint turns the shower on to warm up. Bucky hadn’t thought that a communal shower was in the offering, but he supposes he should have. He’s frozen in the middle of the bathroom when Clint turns around, already stripping off his shirt. 

“Figured we’d... Buck? What’s wrong?” 

“It’s stupid.” 

“Hey, none of that. Carol’d kick your ass.” 

She would, figuratively. It’s still embarrassing to admit. 

“I haven’t been naked around anyone since the accident.” 

Clint looks surprised. “Seriously?” 

Bucky nods miserably. “Just doctors. And Steve has seen me shirtless since he’s been at all of my appointments for the arm. Oh, and Tony too. For the arm.” 

Clint drops his shirt and steps closer. “I’ve noticed that you never take your shirt off when we’re working, no matter how hot it gets. It can’t be the arm, since you go sleeveless.” 

“I’m getting used to people looking at the arm. But... I’ve got a lot of scars.” Bucky had hated them and the stump of his left arm. He’d kept everything covered even from Clint. 

“Baby.” Clint’s voice is soft. “Of course you do. You don’t have to show me. I can go shower in the guest bathroom. It’s fine.” 

“No, it’s... I’m just nervous.” 

Clint reaches out to run his fingertips along Bucky’s left arm. “You don’t have to be with me. And I’m serious. We can wait.” 

Bucky shakes his head. “No, I want to. Would you... would you do it?” 

“Anything you want, Bucky.” 

Bucky takes a breath and raises his arms. “Fast, like a band-aid. We can practice the slow strip tease some other time.” 

Some time when he’s not terrified. Clint seems to understand, and he grasps the hem of Bucky’s shirt and pulls it up. Bucky closes his eyes as the fabric raises, shivers at the brush of Clint’s wet skin against his. He keeps them closed as Clint tugs the shirt completely off, hears the wet plop of it hitting the tile. He waits, but Clint says nothing. He doesn’t touch Bucky either, and finally Bucky can’t stand it. He braces himself and opens his eyes. 

Clint is staring at his scarred left side. There’s no pity or revulsion in his gaze, just sadness. His hand is hovering in mid-air like he’s not sure he’s allowed to touch. Bucky grasps his wrist in his left hand and guides it forward. Clint’s fingers twitch when they touch bare skin. 

“God, baby.” Clint’s voice is hoarse. “You had to be in so much pain.” 

“It doesn’t hurt anymore,” Bucky says quietly. 

Clint’s carefully tracing the longest of Bucky’s scars. “But you were then. No wonder you were so angry all the time.” 

Bucky huffs out a laugh. “I was a dick.” 

“Because you were in pain,” Clint argues. “Chronic pain does awful things to people.” Bucky arches a brow, and Clint shrugs. “I have a therapist too, remember. We talk about you a lot.” 

“You do?” 

“Well, yeah. You’re like 99 of my problems, Bucky.” 

“Asshole.” 

Clint grins clearly pleased that he’s managed to defuse the tension in the room. He leans in to press a gentle kiss to the seam where Bucky’s left shoulder meets metal prosthetic. 

“I’m getting cold, baby. Let’s get that shower.” 

He turns and shucks his pants, lets Bucky admire his ass as he climbs into the shower. Bucky drops his pants and gets a whistle. He rolls his eyes, steps into the tub and closes the curtain. Clint’s already pouring body wash onto a cloth and he takes his time soaping Bucky’s body. He’s gentle with Bucky’s left side, and even if it’s not necessary, Bucky appreciates the care. He hasn’t been touched by anyone in so long that it’s nearly overwhelming. 

“This okay?” 

Clint is definitely a mind reader or something. Bucky smiles reassuringly. 

“’s good. Feels nice. I’m better with touch than I was right after the accident. I can let Steve hug me, but I’m not really close to anyone else like that.” He shrugs. “Anyone else that touches me is doing it for arm maintenance or other medical shit.” 

“As long as you’re good with it, I promise to touch you all the time.” 

Bucky laughs, and leans in to kiss Clint. “You can take this as blanket permission to touch me however you want.” 

Clint makes a pleased sound and moves around to wash Bucky’s back. He holds Bucky’s hair up so he can wash his neck and shoulders. 

“Can you I ask you something rude?” 

“We’re naked in the shower. I don’t think we have secrets.” 

“Maybe little ones.” 

“What do you mean,” Bucky asks, frowning. 

“You, uh, said you didn’t like being touched or anyone seeing you naked. Does that mean...” 

Bucky waits but Clint doesn’t finish the question. He doesn’t really have to. 

“If you’re asking if I’d had sex, the answer is no. The last time was with you, before we went to dinner that night.” 

Clint’s quiet as he runs the cloth down Bucky’s spine. “Me either. If you were wondering.” Bucky turns to look over his shoulder, surprised. Clint gives him an unimpressed look. “I told you I love you, dumb ass. Did you think that happened over the weeks you’ve been here?” 

“Maybe? I mean, I never stopped loving you but that doesn’t mean...” 

There’s a wet splat as Clint drops the washcloth. Bucky gets turned around to face Clint, and he actually looks angry. It’s such a rare thing; Clint is pretty easy going most of the time. 

“When I married you, I said forever. Did you honestly think a bad three years was going to change that? I didn’t divorce you because I fell out of love with you. You know that.” 

Bucky does, but he thinks maybe this is the first time he’s really believing it. He’s processing that when something Clint said pings and he frowns. 

“You didn’t divorce me.” 

Clint blinks. “Uh, yeah, I did. I signed the papers.” 

“I didn’t.” Clint looks dumbfounded. Bucky shakes his head, smiling. “Clint, sweetheart. You never thought it was strange that you never had to go back to court or anything?” 

“I didn’t until you just said it! I’ve never been divorced before. How would I know?” He blinks again and then a gorgeous smile lights up his face. “Holy shit. We’re still married. Does that mean I can put my ring back on?” 

It’s Bucky’s turn to be confused. “You still have it?” 

“Jesus Christ. It’s a really good thing you’re pretty.” Clint sighs. “Yes, I still have it. I only quit wearing it when you showed up because I didn’t want to be pathetic.” 

Bucky lifts Clint’s left hand to press a kiss to his ring finger. “I’ve hated seeing you without it. I wish I still had mine.” 

Clint smiles at him. “You know what this means? I get to buy you another wedding ring.” 

Bucky grins hopefully. “You do?” 

“Duh. Like I’m letting my man wander a college campus without putting a ring on it. I want everyone to know you’re off the market.” 

Bucky laughs and steals another kiss. “I’ve been off the market since the day I ran into you in that coffee shop off Fifth.” 

“Aww, baby. You say the sweetest things.” 

Bucky laughs and kisses him. They're still kissing when the water runs cold. Laughing the stumble out of the shower and quickly dry one another off before running into the bedroom to jump beneath the covers. Clint snuggles up behind Bucky and tucks the blankets in tight around them. 

Bucky is drifting off when the door eases open and he hears the jingle of Lucky’s collar before the dog jumps up and curls down at the foot of the bed. He lifts his head, and Lucky lifts his to look back. 

“Thanks for bringing me home, buddy.” 

Lucky woofs softly and drops his head. He’s snoring moments later, almost in tandem with Clint. Bucky’s grinning as he follows them into sleep.


End file.
